ME& a bit of rough

I can’t believe that last week I was whingeing about not getting enough attention. Over the past few days, the worm has turned and people all over town seem to be gawping at me. Why?

Well, I’m afraid it’s not because I’ve suddenly found a secret stash of charisma. It’s just that after a stupid ­accident left me with a nasty facial bruise, I look like a sideshow curiosity. It started last Monday as I was late running for work, I slipped on a wet leaf and fell flat on my face. Rather than put my hands out to cushion the fall they were too busy trying to save my laptop from smashing. So I arrive at work, fairly disheveled, a few hours and a fistful of ibuprofen later, I noticed that a big ­purplish blotch had appeared on my cheek bone and forehead, like a blob of blackcurrant jam splatted on stale porridge.

This simple blotch seems to have transformed me into a bit of rough. Tube passengers have been glancing at me for a split-second and then discovering that they’re fascinated by the ads above my head when I catch their eye. While one bloke I passed coming out of Blackhorse Road tube station clocked my bruise and my hoodie and decided he was better off on the other side of the street. The reaction is a little nonsensical – why assume someone’s hard because something or somebody has whacked them?

Mind you, this case of ­mistaken identity had its ­advantages. When I was commuting home the other day one guy kept catching my eye and to my surprise he openly started flirting with me. I was getting cruised on public transport, I knew it would go no where being a faithful husband but a little window shopping never hurt anyone so I played along.

So what’s the attraction? There’s something sexy about getting off with someone different from yourself, and there’s an exciting edge to blokes who look like they’d win a scrap with a badger. Still, the effort of seeming hard isn’t something I’m good at. I just couldn’t keep the charade up: the guy sharking me on the tube sauntered up to me before he was about to get off at his stop and said hello, but when I responded he looked totally non-plussed when I opened my mouth and my rather polite Edinburgh / London accent rolled out the gig was up.